Wedding Undergraduates

Apr 2013

Bridal showers seem to be one of the select aspects of wedding planning that APWers are still working really hard to figure out. And I get it. It’s hard. On the one hand, showers usually take place because someone who loves you wants to do something nice for you. But then the cultural noise of it all gets in the way and can make things feel really complicated. There’s the gendered nature of the thing, the exhibitionism (is opening presents in front of people anybody else’s nightmare?), and if you’re lucky like me, all this will take place with nary an ounce of booze nearby. But all that said, showers don’t always have to be complicated. Like anything related to wedding planning, there is always an opportunity to take something WIC-awful and make it really meaningful. So today Emily Rock gives us her formula for a meaningful wedding shower. And there’s a slight chance it made the whole staff kind of teary. Your definition of meaningful might look totally different, but just knowing it’s possible to even have a meaningful shower is enough to give me hope.

—Maddie

The person who hosts should ideally meet at least most of the following criteria: they offer to host without feeling obligated to; they have a home that can comfortably fit the guests; they have the budget and/or savvy to host a shower that isn’t costly for attendees; they are creative, organized, and/or a natural party planner. Bonus points if, as in my case, they’ve known you since you were nine months old.
Make it clear that you don’t want gifts, and mean it. Have the host write on the invitations something unambiguous like, “Emily has requested no presents.”
Since they don’t have to buy you anything, the guests can be asked to contribute in other ways. A themed potluck, for instance. Debbie used the theme of “travel” for the shower (inspired by the map motif my fiancé and I used in our invitations). For the lunch portion of the afternoon, she asked everyone to make or buy something they associate with a particular place. This resulted in one of the most eclectic and delicious potlucks I’ve ever attended: sweet potato biscuits, sushi salad, tabbouleh, flan, sticky rice, almond bread, kugel, corn cob jelly, lemons from a friend’s childhood lemon tree, apple crumble.
As long as she’s giving the guests homework, the host can also add a writing prompt. Debbie asked guests to think of a place they’ve been that they’d recommend Bret and I travel. Pictures and text optional but encouraged. Some guests brought pictures with captions, some wrote long charming narratives, and my grandma told her story with no notes or visual aids. After lunch, we all sat around in a circle and each woman shared her piece. We all laughed. Some of us cried. I felt the most love and warmth and support a gal could ever feel—and as a bonus, I wasn’t in the spotlight unwrapping things.
If you want to get your hair and makeup trial done that morning (because it is fun to have somewhere to go once you’re all done up), do it, but know that you might feel almost sacrilegious walking into a community that’s known you fresh-faced and unmade up for most of your life, and in which some of the women don’t shave their legs, much less put on blush.
Craft your guest list with care, and then know that whoever comes are the ones who should be there. This is good practice (I assume) for the wedding itself. There were a few glaring absences: two women from my community who died in the past year, who really should have been there, whose radiance and warmth I missed acutely. And a couple friends I also missed, but who couldn’t be there for logistical or other reasons. It’s hard not to take absences personally, especially when it’s the only bridal shower you’ll ever have. You might, like me, want to be a little bit of a diva about it, stamp your foot and insist they show up. Resist this. Focus on the greatness that is gathering together people from different parts of your life and watching them connect.
Take pictures. Actually, have someone else take pictures, and make your one goal to be really present for the whole gorgeous thing. Continue reading How to Have a Meaningful Bridal Shower

Posted in: Advice, Wedding Undergraduates | 81 Comments »

Apr 2013

Elisabeth: What the Psychic Said

Even though APW operates around monthly themes these days, sometimes a weekly theme will emerge as we work our way through a given week’s content. This week, it would appear, is all about figuring out who we are. For me, this is it. No matter the circumstances, knowing who we are is the first step to being prepared to enter into a lifetime of partnership. Because when you know what makes you feel fulfilled, then it won’t end up falling to someone else to figure it out for you. So today we have our intern Elisabeth, with her always-hilarious writing, and a brilliant narrative take on knowing oneself. Plus, there is knitting and baby birds.

—Maddie

When people ask how K and I met, I generally tell them we saw each other online, exchanged a series of winsome emails, and then met up for a bourbon cocktail. If there’s time, though, I like to tell them that what really happened: I put away my shoebox, and I knit a sweater.

A few summers back, I went to a psychic, mostly on a whim, when I was mooning around getting over my last break up. A good friend strongly recommended her. She said that her theatre company relied on the psychic for guidance about absolutely everything. And a theatre company is way more complicated than me, all that blocking and staged readings and shows run entirely on electricity generated by bicycles. Plus the psychic’s office was on the same block as my therapist, which seemed very important.

The psychic had a lot of slightly bizarre and moderately profound things to say to me, including that I was like the 2010 Gulf oil spill and my recent ex was like the cap that neatly sealed it off (not a false assessment of our relationship, but couldn’t you just agree gently that we were a bad match?!). She had lots of things to say about how creatively blocked I was, and that I needed to stop relying on other people to find outlets for my creativity and happiness. When I got out there and found it for myself, by myself, she intoned, only then would I be my authentic self with or without a relationship. Now, I realize that 99% of psychics probably say this to 99% of their customers. But then she said sternly, “You like wounded birds, and you need to stop carrying shoeboxes around for them.” How did that psychic see the last decade of my dating history? This was a logic model I could get behind: spend time alone; do not be distracted by wounded birds, even the most adorable ones; use all that time to discover my authentic self; once self is found, hold onto it and find a Person who is really pumped about my authentic self.

Of course, I had big intentions, but as with many of my projects, I was long on enthusiasm and a bit short on follow-through. I would “be creative” in periodic fits of energy. I sewed two pillow covers out of sea themed dishtowels from the Crate and Barrel outlet, my wild and distracted stitches marching up and down the messy seams. I co-chaired a consensus-based community garden committee. I rearranged my desk. I scattered ocean treasures just so across the wide planks and waited for inspiration to strike and ignored the fact that I had so many public health papers due that I never had any time to do any writing for myself anyway. (In retrospect I may have gone overboard with the ocean treasures. When a friend saw the pillows and sea glass strewn everywhere, she asked if I had plans to rename the bathroom “Buoys and Gulls Room.”) Of course, I also spent a lot of time creatively crying on the Q train.

Then, in the middle of a miserable city winter, I decided I’d embark on a truly creative pursuit: I’d knit a sweater, and I would start dating again when it was finished. Not even any making out lying down, nope, not until I was wearing a hand-knit creation. I reasoned that as adrift as I felt, by the time the sweater was finished I’d feel differently, maybe a little closer to the person I wanted to be. I went to the Lion’s Brand studio just outside of Union Square the next day, found a perfect, vibrant fuchsia, and brought it home. It was just me and those needles, flashing furiously. I realized that in two decades of knitting, I’d really never made anything for myself—not a pair of handwarmers, not even a scarf. I raced jubilantly through the first six inches without realizing the raglan increase was backwards. Ripped the stitches out, started again, slower this time. I would bring my sweater on the train; listen to The Moth podcast while I slipped yarn through loops and counted the rows and let my mind fade away, feeling calmer already, creating my own string theory. “By the time this sweater is done,” I would think, “things will be different.” Continue reading Elisabeth: What the Psychic Said

Posted in: Marriage Equality, Planning, Wedding Undergraduates | 37 Comments »

Apr 2013

Remember The Lesbians: Engagement Rings

There’s nothing I love more than an engagement story that encourages a balance of honest communication with trust in your partner and then sets it with realistic expectations. Because let’s be honest, most of the time the narrative around engagements is…troubling. While I love a surprise as much as the next person (who may not actually like surprises all that much, to be honest), I’m not a fan of the engagement trope that suggests we shouldn’t have a say in the symbols we wear or that discourages conversation on the subject altogether (lest we be too “pushy”). So to add to our recent exploration of the art of engagement (check out intern Elisabeth’s story on choosing and then losing her engagement ring, or intern Rachel’s Buying A Guy An Engagement Ring for some recent forays into the subject), today Sarah gives us Remember The Lesbians: Engagement Ring Edition.

—Maddie

Graphic and original post by Teri & Lisa of Godseeker Comic

Back when our marriage was just a dream, just pillow talk that we whispered to one another, the subject of getting engaged came up. As two women, we had the advantage of living without the normative script of who would propose to whom and how. But that’s a post for another day. Today, I want to share how we decided on and procured engagement rings.

1. Discuss what an engagement ring means to you. I was of the firm opinion that an engagement ring was a rather silly social custom that had some problematic undertones. Don’t get me wrong, I love jewelry, but as someone who winces whenever she spends a glob of money, I theorized that I could be content with something very simple or perhaps nothing at all. And I was troubled by how often I saw someone greet an engagement announcement with, “Oooh! Let me see the ring!” On the other hand, my wife-to-be was firm: She wanted the symbol of commitment, she wanted it to be a ring, and she wanted us both to have one. As it turned out, I was okay with this.

Lesson learned: It is okay to want what you want.

2. Discuss what your low and high ends of spending are. We agreed to both get rings, but more importantly, we agreed that each ring would be a gift from one of us to the other. Although we had shared a joint credit card ever since we’d started living together, this was not to be a joint purchase. That meant that the person buying the ring got final say over how much the ring cost. That said, we discussed what we were comfortable spending. We had disparate incomes at the time, so this was important. I did not want to get her a ring that was worth a fraction of whatever she got me. (Even though price does not correlate with awesomeness.) I also was uncomfortable having a piece of jewelry on my hand that was worth more than a certain amount. We created a ballpark range that we were both comfortable with.

Lesson learned: Agree on cost—and agree who gets to make the final say on cost.

3. Discuss what the ring will be like. This is the perfect conversation fodder for long car rides. We talked about metals, stones, cuts, designs, etc. We talked about how long we wanted to wear the rings (daily, but only through the wedding—thereafter just on special occasions). We talked about our styles (clumsy, so not conducive to delicate or high-set rings). We listed adjectives that we would want to describe our rings—was it, “modern, sleek, and unobtrusive,” or “classic, shiny, and colorful”? These were fun discussions, but they were also thrillingly exciting, because although we were discussing the general vision, the ultimate rings were still going to be a total surprise. I wouldn’t see the ring she gave me until the engagement, and vice versa.

Lesson learned: Talk about your vision for the ring—and agree who gets to make the final decision about what it actually looks like. Continue reading Remember The Lesbians: Engagement Rings

Posted in: Advice, Engagements & Proposals, Marriage Equality, Thoughts & Action, Wedding Undergraduates | 26 Comments »

Apr 2013

The Silver Lining

There is a method behind the madness of choosing The Good as the theme for APW this month. It’s not because “It’s spring, and we all need cheering up!” and it’s not to ignore the complex and often painful world that we live in. It’s because, as I touched on in my letter from the editor, seeing the good amidst everything else is what helps ground us in the moment. It’s because, as we go through the complicated process of planning weddings and building marriages, we need to be reminded of the kernel of goodness that we’re building our lives around. That goodness isn’t the perfectly mismatched succulent centerpieces. It’s each other, love, and community. It’s the ephemeral bits that you need to catch as they fly by. I’ll leave Brieanna to bring this idea home.

—Meg

January 20, 2012 was the day that everything changed. My boyfriend was going to a job interview for a line cook position at an Italian restaurant, and we were supposed to hang out afterwards. But we didn’t get the chance because his car swerved off of the road and hit a tree. He was rushed into the ICU with a traumatic brain injury and spent a month in a coma.

The memory of seeing him after he woke up, his big smile when I entered the room, the way he impatiently patted the spot next to him on the bed as if to say, “Well come on,” the way he kissed and held me…it was like he was trying to make up for the month when he couldn’t. As time went on, C grew stronger. He could walk on his own, could tie his own shoes (it had been an area of frustration for awhile), could recount the past (all but his accident). Soon enough he was at home learning to readjust. But anyone who has had a loved one survive traumatic brain injury knows that leaving the hospital is just the beginning, because an injury to the brain changes you physically, mentally, and emotionally.

As he’s recovered, C and I have had to communicate more than before, we’ve had to relearn all our previous relationship boundaries (adjusting them as such), and we both have had to learn to love the new him. (It’s a little harder sometimes for C.) Sometimes the world seems too small and sometimes it seems too big, but C and I have more confidence in ourselves and our relationship than ever.

Some members of my family have said that they worry that this has all been so stressful on me. I can almost hear the “Things would be easier if you were single” tone in their voice. In a way they are right. It would be easier, but I wouldn’t be nearly as happy. A lot of the time you have to pick the harder road to get the better pay off. The funny thing is that leaving never popped into my head. It was never an option, not because I felt I had no choice, but because I had already chosen. I am already committed, and no matter where this relationship goes, I love C irrevocably. Continue reading The Silver Lining

Posted in: The Hard Stuff, Wedding Undergraduates | 36 Comments »

Mar 2013

Elisabeth: The Albatross

Wedding planning makes it easy to get caught up in the equation that marriage = forever, therefore things pertaining to the wedding = will also be important forever. Particularly when the wedding industry is force-feeding us the trope that one always represents the whole (mostly they use that idea to sell us invitations that match our tablecloths). But the reality is it’s perfectly all right if some things start out with a level of symbolic importance that dwindles as time passes. Because truthfully? It’s a lot of work upholding the symbols of our relationships, and marriage would be a tough row to hoe if all of those symbols carried the same weight all the time. So today, our intern Elisabeth imbues on us perhaps on of the best wedding mantras I’ve read in a while: it’s one thing, but it’s not everything. If there’s one thing you should print out and paste it on your wall leading up to the wedding, let that be it.

—Maddie

I lost my engagement ring at the Long Island City YMCA. I lost it somewhere between the rowing machines, the showers, and the pool. I realized I lost my engagement ring later, on the way to work, while I was standing up and swaying as my bus careened down Queens Boulevard. I was humming the chorus of “I Knew You Were Trouble,” wondering if my friend J could learn the drums and if we maybe could become the next Tegan and Sara, the mid- to late-thirties version that only sings pop music covers (I think this idea has real legs), when I glanced down and saw my bare finger. I got off the bus and burst into tears. I was not grieving the loss of a precious ring. No, I was seriously pissed. This ring had been a total freaking albatross, and now it goes and gets itself lost.

As I wrote in my last post, our pre-wedding discussions have been more of a meandering path rather than a clear-cut before and after engagement. Neither of us proposed to the other; rather, we decided to get married together over the course of a couple months. We didn’t put much time into finding engagement rings, but I did want something tangible, some representation that we were a pair who had DTR-ed to that level. I wanted something different, meaningful, something quintessentially us, and pretty soon I was describing in many adjectives something that would remind me of our most beloved places, of our happy picnics, walks, and attempted body surfing. I showed K the ring I’d had bookmarked through my last three girlfriends (at least), a gorgeous beach stone set in silver. “It’s very us,” I said wisely, “being that we both love the ocean.” K took one look and immediately nixed it. She pointed out that last spring that I made her take swimming lessons at the Y since she actually hates the water, and furthermore, she would prefer if we selected something that didn’t have ghosts of girlfriends past all over it. Totally reasonable.

Incidentally, everyone needs to take swimming lessons! You can drown in thirty seconds in two inches of water! Plus, spotting K through the glass in her swim cap at the Dodge Street Y, blowing bubbles and paddling a kickboard, was hilariously endearing.

So we ended up envisioning a ring that would be made out of sand from our favorite beaches up and down the Eastern Seaboard. (This really highlights one of my favorite theories: “If something is simple, make it complicated.”) I scooped up a handful of sand and carried it back to the car during a whipping windstorm on Assateague Island, VA. I climbed over a barricade in Red Hook, Brooklyn and shoved some pebbly grains into a leftover Steve’s Key Lime Swingle wrapper. On a trip back from Maine I pulled off at the closest beach I could find to grab another handful of sand. I stood on the shore and mistily gazed out like I was seeing our future, though it didn’t feel particularly special like I thought it was supposed to, since I was cold, annoyed, and not even on my favorite beach. We sent all this combined sand off to a jeweler who returned a lovely ring with the combined sand set under glass, a little hourglass representing our past and future. I slipped it on and felt satisfied. “Now,” I thought, “we’ve arrived, we are here.”

Except. Soon I realized the ring wasn’t watertight. Between my work in public health and my fear of getting sick, I am all too aware of the frothy underbelly of everyday appliances like computers, doorknobs, and subway poles. You guys, I live in Brooklyn; even the poor oysters in the Gowanus Canal have typhoid and gonorrhea. Danger everywhere. I wash my hands about four hundred times a day, and soon I started to notice patches of the sand slightly darken as my sand ring turned to more like mud. Basically, a moldy cholera colony, right there on my finger. Continue reading Elisabeth: The Albatross

Posted in: Planning, Wedding Undergraduates | 52 Comments »

Mar 2013

The First Step Is Admitting You Have a Problem

The joke among my family and friends is that deciding is my superpower (well, that and working a room). In recent years, I figured out this has a lot to do with my family dynamics. At the dinner table, starting when I was tiny, my parents pushed me to have an opinion and firmly back it up. Turns out, this wasn’t a random game to create a difficult child. Women in our culture are pushed to go along and keep their opinions to themselves, and I was in for a lifetime of pressure to go quietly. These days, as a boss, I press my (female) employees the same way my parents pressed me: What’s your opinion? State it firmly. Back it up. Leave it on me to debate if I disagree. Given this, Sarah’s post hits close to home for me. Being a woman who makes decisions is hard. It’s something that has to constantly be relearned and is ultimately so important for our relationships.

–Meg

Sometimes the thoughts that pop into my head are so foreign and unsolicited that it feels as if they were put there by somebody else. I am pretty sure there is this other chick squatting inside of me, silently watching the drama unfold, waiting for some distracted moment to jump in and smack me upside the head with what she really thinks. A few weeks after my engagement, I am yawning at a stop sign, searching for my break in an endless parade of cars, when over the relentless clicking of the turn signal she suddenly utters: Well, I guess you’re never going to be single again. Better start figuring out what you want in a relationship.

Wait. What? Where did that come from?

At first I’m indignant. The “Yes” has already been whispered, the ring photos uploaded and subsequently “liked,” the congratulations envelopes emptied of their contents. The decision has been made. And now is the time to start figuring out what I want? It’s a little late for that.

I do see where she’s coming from, though. I have a history of getting into relationships and forgetting that I have opinions; in love, I fail to participate in making decisions that affect my own health and happiness. I can trace this habit all the way back to my (loving, supporting, wonderful!) family of origin. Along with an infamous punctuality deficiency, my parents, siblings, and I all share an inability to make a joint decision on even the most mundane matters. A typical Friday night in our house during my youth:

“Well. Nobody feels like cooking. Should we have Chinese or pizza?”
“I don’t care. Ask Dad.”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. What do you want?”
“I dunno. Maybe pizza?”
“That’s fine, I guess. But didn’t we have pizza last weekend?”
“Okay…so…Chinese, then?”
“I guess. But what do we order?”
“Don’t ask me. Ma, what should we get?”
“Oh, I don’t care. Just…anything.”
“General Tso’s?”
“Well, we had that last time. But get whatever you want.”
“Maybe we should just order a pizza.”

(My fiancé Mark is baffled by this waltz of non-decision. As a point of comparison, his mother recently sent us both an email entitled “Gift Hints for my Birthday.” Her birthday is nine months from now. She just wants to make absolutely sure she gets what she wants.)

“Okay,” I say to the squatter inside my head, “so my family had take-out problems. So I’ve played the doormat in a relationship or two. That was then. I have since grown up, gotten a master’s degree, gotten all feminist, and gotten over it. Right?” Continue reading The First Step Is Admitting You Have a Problem

Posted in: Gender & Feminism, Wedding Undergraduates | 57 Comments »